


the kind you find in the night

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, komaeda tries ripping his fingers off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 13:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The love Hinata has for Komaeda is really, truly something otherworldly.





	the kind you find in the night

**Author's Note:**

> i almost forgot it was komahina week! i wrote this a while ago for the hope/despair prompt. idk what i think about it now but oh well  
> inspired by tanya by pisco sour hour.... somehow

It’s three in the morning and Komaeda is babbling. 

“There are sick people, and then there are sicker people,” he says, mostly to himself, as he walks in circles inside Hinata’s cottage. “And there is only one person that is the sickest of all. What do you define sick as, Hinata-kun?”

He looks at an anxious Hinata, sitting on the bed. In his head, somewhere, Komaeda knows he isn’t going to answer his question because it oftentimes amplifies the situation, but it’s nice to ask anyway.

“I think it depends on the brain,” Komaeda continues after the brief moment of silence. “I think it depends on the color, the amount of tissue, the way thoughts are created. There’s a lot of factors… Come to think of it, there are a lot of factors in everything. In living.”

“Komaeda, come sit down.”

He ignores the request — or rather, he hears it, but the words bounce off his tympanic membrane like a ball. “Living requires many things, namely desire. Without desire, people feel purposeless — hopeless! Without desire, nothing is there to create a bud of hope in whomever’s life. It’s sad to think about.”

His fingers twitch as he speaks.

“But it can’t be as simple as that! For example, I have no purpose, but I have desire. Kamukura-kun had no desire, but did have purpose! There are exceptions to every rule, but there are no exceptions to the sensation that hope brings. And in that sense,  _ hope  _ is an exception to the there-are-exceptions-to-everything rule!”

“Komaeda.”

The words dissolve into incomprehensible atoms on the floor. “Another example…”

Suddenly, he frowns and looks at his arm. Wiggles the metal. “I know you made this for me, Hinata-kun, but sometimes I feel phantom itching. Which is strange, because I had no tactile sensations on  _ her  _ arm, only mine.” He tugs hard at one of his fingers. “Oh — how time — flies by!”

This isn’t the first time Komaeda has tried snapping his fingers off. It happens frequently during these episodes _.  _ Fortunately, they have become less frequent occurrences, but when they do happen, there’s not much that can be done save for letting him talk himself into exhaustion and making sure he doesn’t  _ actually  _ rip his fingers off.

“Hey, hold on, Komaeda—“ Hinata says, and he’s jumping off the bed and grabbing Komaeda’s wrists.

The boy being restrained widens his eyes. They could probably fall out of his head, or at least, it feels like they could. “Ah!” he yelps after a second of being held, flailing his arms about.

Hinata continues holding. Intervening. Disrupting. Komaeda’s thoughts are all scattered now, and he can’t remember his last sentence. “Kamukura-kun has such a strong grip!”

Hinata says nothing.

“I don’t like — I don’t like being restrained!” His eyes flash like watching a car fly off of a bridge. “Please let go! I have to — I have to stop it. If I don’t stop this, then surely… surely surely surely something terrible will happen. Bad. Something evil, something —“

He’s shrieking now, incomprehensibly so, enough to wake up those sleeping in the surrounding cottages.

Hinata releases his grip, looking very wary.

The room, the island, the world is a sinking ship; all of the lights are out and noises are muted like snow. Komaeda feels a hand on his shoulder guiding him somewhere, but can’t focus on anything other than the sound of someone laughing. It’s himself, he thinks dimly.

“Komaeda, open your eyes. You’re not anywhere bad, it’s just the cottage. I promise.”

His eyes snap open. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, and Hinata and sitting next to him, thigh against thigh, with a hand on his shoulder.

Hinata’s hand runs along Komaeda’s cheek, rubs his thumb along his jaw and makes a plethora of other small movements.

It’s like switching on a flashlight.

“Oh,” Komaeda said dully, shifting his head. “What time is it?”

“Just after three in the morning.”

“Ah.”

“I think you had a bad dream,” Hinata adds. “You were talking for a while. I didn’t do anything, like usual, but you tried to take apart your hand so I had to stop you. You panicked when I grabbed your wrists, and then I sat you down on the bed.”

Hinata really is a blessing sent from some distant part of heaven. He always tells Komaeda what happened, always treats him gently even when he’s acting  _ scary,  _ always manages to settle him down somehow. Nobody else on the island or elsewhere can attest to being able to do that.

“Is that everything?” he simply asks, choosing words carefully.

“Yeah,” Hinata says. “Are you okay?”

“My head hurts,” he replies, honestly.

“Do you want water or something?”

Komaeda thinks. “Sure."

Hinata gets up and trudges into the bathroom. As he walks away, Komaeda takes a moment to crawl back under the bedsheets.

The love Hinata has for Komaeda is really, truly something otherworldly. Though he’s oftentimes awkward with his wording regarding the emotion, his actions and behavior do all the talking needed. It’s the little things — his unyielding patience, his small touches to Komaeda’s back and palms, his ability to listen and not make Komaeda feel … crazy. Komaeda doesn’t know anybody else he’s ever met that would calmly endure his ramblings and then offer to get him  _ water  _ afterwards. In fact, Komaeda can’t name many people that felt especially positive toward himself at all.

He hopes that one day, in the future or perhaps another lifetime, he’ll love himself the way Hinata does.

For now, all he feels as though he can do is show how he feels in return. Komaeda wonders if his tautology around Hinata is bothersome — with his constant  _ I love you, I love you _ ’s and pointless interest in average things. He can go on about how different the bugs sound at night versus how they sound during the day for ages, or how certain sections of the library give off different atmospheres, or how strange the word  _ air conditioner _ is — but he only tells Hinata these types of things. It’s only for Hinata and Komaeda knows he understands that.

“Here,” Hinata says, suddenly standing by the bed. There’s a cup of water in his hands and Komaeda takes it and sips. A quiet moment passes.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly as Hinata places the cup on the table.

“You’re welcome,” Hinata mumbles, laying back down in quite an uncoordinated manner and pulling the sheets up. “

A few months ago, Komaeda would never pull Hinata’s arm across him, let alone touch him without permission. But he can do that now, because he is nearly one hundred percent positive that Hinata likes holding him just as much as Komaeda likes being held.

And so he tugs Hinata’s arm around him in a kind embrace and lets himself shift against his back to get comfortable. Crickets make knowing noises outside.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, Hinata-kun,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.” It’s not a lie, because Hinata rarely lies now unless it’s about something embarrassing. “And, um, I love you too.”

The open window blows in a warm breeze.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
